Sacrifice
by Quentin B. Caulfield
Summary: It is a decision between saving the new Hyuuga Sakura or condemning her to death. Self interest or Honor? For Tenten, the lines between right and wrong are blurring. Entirely NejiTen. A different take on the NejiSaku marriage.
1. Chapter 1

The high ceiling of the church was beautifully decorated as streams upon streams of sakura blossoms were strung from every place imaginable. Hours of work had been dedicated to plucking and stringing the delicate blossoms, and the result was picturesque. The warm afternoon sun added to the effect, drifting silently through the high church windows not only illuminating the church, but also highlighting the soft pink color of the blossoms. As guests walked through the grand chapel doors, they were awed into silence as the majestic sight greeted them. Never in their wildest dreams did anyone think that the run-down chapel could be turned into anything remotely resembling a church. The abandoned chapel stood on the outskirts of the city, left to the mercy of the elements, only to be discovered by the bride months prior. And now, everyone could see just what had captured her attention. _This_ is what she saw as she stood staring at the neglected building: the graceful sunlight, the droves of sakura blossoms, and the indescribable air of joy that hung everywhere.

Happiness clung to every inch of the church as more and more guests arrived, most with genuine smiles on their faces. That is, all but one.

She sat on the right side, in the second row, signifying that she was a close as family. And the significance was not lost to any of the guests – how many times in the _history_ of the Hyuuga clan, was an outsider allowed to sit as a clan member? Her years of dedication and her remarkable skill had won her the respect and, at times, even the admiration of more than one clan member, including Hiashi-sama himself.

Her deep brown hair elegantly curled and resting peacefully on her back, was a stark contrast to the soft pink dress that clung on her body. She was slightly hunched, with her head tilted forward and eyes closed. From all appearances, she seemed calm, perfectly at peace with the world; but to anyone who truly knew her, they could spot the tension in her shoulders, the small frown on her lips, and the air of resignation around her. But all this was disregarded by the majority, thinking that she was lost in her own little world, thinking that her happiness would return once she realized where she really was. For how could someone wallow in despair on such a happy occasion? But they were all fools. They did not understand that it was the chapel, the fact that today was _his_ wedding day, and the cold truth that she was **not** the bride that had her weeping silently in despair. Her world was shattering, and not one saw.

But perhaps the greatest irony of all was that she had blessed this union.

Why did she do this? Why did she subject herself to this torture? Why, when he asked her for her blessing, did she not cry out and protest with everything she had? Why did she reassure _her_ that she was truly happy for _her_ marriage? Why did she do all of this, when each night she returned home and cried anguished tears?

The answer was simple: _his_ happiness **_always_** came before her own.

That one simple fact rang true throughout her entire life. How many times had she pushed herself beyond what was physically healthy? How many times had she trained, battled, pushed through blinding pain, fatal wounds, exhausting training sessions so that _he_ could become stronger? Whose constant barrage of weapons allowed _him_ to hone his ultimate defense, the Kai Ten? Who endured the 64 Hands of Hakke so that _he_ could perfect it, so that _he_ could see the true extent of its devastating power?

Who had trained with him, cared for him, **bled for him**?

'Not _her._ Me. Always me. Never _her_,' She thought bitterly. She had sacrificed so much, and now received so little.

How cruel fate was. How cruel _destiny_ is. How ironic.

As he walked through the great wooden doors, he didn't know how to feel. His mouth refused to form a smile, but he heart wouldn't allow him to break the aura of happiness. But even with mind and heart in turmoil, he didn't dare miss this event. Years of blood, sweat, and pain wouldn't allow him to miss _his_new beginning, a second chance that _he_ rightfully deserved. With not only _his_ family broken at an early age, but _his_ lost childhood and the painful isolation, _he_ deserved to finally correct the wrongs of his childhood – _he_ **deserved** a second chance.

But that didn't make sitting through _his_ wedding any easier.

However, as he walked through the grand chapel doors, he realized that he was not alone – someone else shared his pain. He looked around for his teammate, hoping that she was here, but knowing that she was. If he was despairing _her_ wedding, his sole consolation was that he had tried to cultivate the small bud of romance into a beautiful flower – he used every opportunity to sway _her_ into his arms, to show _her_ that his love burned with the fire of youth! But to no avail – it would not be his loud and ardent proclamations that wooed her heart, but the soft admission of a tortured soul.

He prided himself on the fact that he had no regrets – he could honestly say that he tried.

But he was alone in that proclamation.

He found her, sitting ramrod straight, staring aimlessly at her hands, as though she barely convinced her body to attend the wedding, but refused to bring her mind. He stopped, unable to move on as he watched her. She had regrets, and they weighed her down as if spitefully taunting her with their loaded "what if's."

"Tenten," he whispered unconsciously.

As he looked at her, he almost felt ashamed of himself. Yes, he was suffering; yes, it took Gai-sensei to whip his ass before he came out of his misery-induced depression; and yes, in the deep, dark, little part of his heart that he tried to ignore, he wanted to rip out _his_ eyes and shove them up _his_ ass.

But compared to her suffering, he was like a child crying over a lost lollipop, while his mother was being violently abused. (1)

"Tenten," he said as he approached her.

She didn't respond immediately, indolently raising her head to look up at him. As she recognized him, her façade cracked slightly and her voice shook as she tried to respond.

"Lee."

She looked at him, her eyes piercing through his soul, striking him through his heart and rendering him helpless. Those eyes assailed him with questions: _Why am I here? Why did I come?_ But he couldn't answer her. He stared inert and transfixed by those eyes, those terrible eyes, that simultaneously seemed to desperately beg for answers, while accusing him, blaming him for being unable to answer. _Why did I say 'yes'?_

But how could he answer? How could he tell her what he truly thought? For while he empathized with her pain, while he not only understood that her relationship with _him _was far from black and white, but also that she was scared shitless of the prospect of losing that relationship, a small, dark part of him whispered, _'You brought this on yourself.'_ (2)

There he said it.

He finally said what was softly whispering through the back of his mind. She had brought this on herself. **He** had tried. **He** refused to give up in the face of repeated failures. **He** swore to himself that only when he had tried _everything_, that only when he had no more to give to her and she still refused him, that he would give up. And he kept that promise to himself.

But she didn't do that. The two danced around the subject too long, lived in ambiguity too long, refused to acknowledge their feelings for so long, that the game, the dance, the ambiguity simply grew tiresome.

And _he_ did **not** like to waste his time.

That's why _she_ succeed. Not because _she_ wormed her way into _his_ heart, not because _he_ found solace in _her_ flighty, moth-like demeanor (3), and certainly not because _he_ believed that he could trust _her_ with his secrets and pain.

No, certainly not. _She_ only succeed because her proclamation of "love" came at a fortuitous moment – _she_ simply plucked the fruit cultivated by his teammate's gentle hands.

It was Tenten _he_ loved, not _her_ – but they had waited too long, and now, they were both about to make the biggest mistake of their lives: they were going to give up, rationalizing their failure as a "sacrifice" for the "sake" of the other.

Ha. What bullshit.

They were both going to live empty, regretful lives if they continued to be so uncharacteristically "self-sacrificing." (4)

"Will you all take you seats? The ceremony is about to begin."

_He_ entered, looking as handsome as she expected – she had put the final touches on his appearance – but refused to fully understand what his entrance really meant. She didn't expect him to turn his head to look for her, assuming he expected her to be where she always was: near enough for comfort, but never any closer. But, unexpectedly, his eyes sought hers out as he walked regally down the aisle. His eyes asked for her smile, the smile that she reserved just for him, the one he said made him feel relaxed and right with the world, the one that would put all of his doubts and (surprisingly) fears to rest.

And like always, she never denied him anything.

And so she smiled like she had never smiled before, trying desperately for something genuine, but knowing in her heart, that with that smile, she was condemning herself – sealing away hope and throwing away the key.

And she hoped that it would be enough. She hoped that it was enough that she was sacrificing her happiness for his, for his second chance. She hoped and prayed that this would be the last thing he asked of her, because she knew that short of her life, she had nothing left to give him.

And so she smiled, and his face relaxed, and the door to her soul closed with a heart-wrenching and ominous _click_.

TO BE CONTINUED

WELL, that is the end of the first chapter.

Remember this is the first chapter, so there is a **long** way to go – if you remember the summary, you should know that **I will not be leaving the pairing **(Neji/Sakura) **as it stands**. I hate that pairing, but it works for the sake of plot and movement.

**This is my baby, so please be nice**. I've been working on this for a long time, but if you don't like it, don't just flame me, but tell me _what went wrong._

OK, well, now I shall answer the little "what the fuck?" questions you all have on certain aspects of the plot and characterization.

"_But compared to her suffering, he was like a child crying over a lost lollipop, while his mother was being violently abused." _Ok, I'll admit that this is a little… strong of a comparison, but I was striving for a stark contrast. I am not implying that the grief that Lee goes through is a trivial as a "child crying over a lost lollipop," or that Tenten's predicament is akin to a "mother being violently abused." In my mind, because Lee did everything he could to win Sakura's attention, short of becoming a very emo child, his grief is not the same as Tenten's, because in his mind, _he_ did not fail, _she_ (Sakura) simply chose someone else – he could not control her personal preference or her decisions. Therefore, while he may not fully accept her decision, his mind and psyche does not have the added weight of those terrible "what if's." However, unlike Lee, Tenten does have that extra "weight," and therefore, her grief and suffering seems greater – not more important, just simply greater.

'_You brought this on yourself.'_ Ok, so the way that this is worded, it sounds like it was _solely_ Tenten fault; this is definitely **not** what I meant. I only meant that, you have to admit, there is a certain frustration associated with the whole Tenten/Neji relationship. I love them and the dynamics of their relationship, but being forever caught in a timeless frame of friendship, gets somewhat frustrating after a while. That is why I like to write about the _progression_ of their relationship – it makes not only them, but their relationship seem more real. **That** is all that I meant – not that somehow their relationship wasn't supposed to happen.

'_That's why she succeed. Not because she wormed her way into his heart, not because he found solace in her flighty, moth-like demeanor'_ Well, the emphasis is on my description of Sakura's behavior. Now, when I wrote this, I was referring to her behavior _before_ her "transformation," or at least before the Chuunin Exams. I actually do _really_ like a strong Sakura, not to the point that she is like "Rawr! I am kunochi," but just a…stronger one. So, in this story, please think of Sakura as a battle-hardened medic-nin, but not to the point that she has the intensity that I characterize Tenten with. That is, please don't assume that I will make Sakura as strong in character as Tenten. I definitely see a difference in their personalities – while both are hardened, they deal with different aspects of death, one being a shinobi (realize that I use shinobi, and not kunochi), and one being a medic-nin.

_Lee's very uncharacteristic bitter tone_. Ok, so I really hate a week Lee. I do not see him as a character that that would just simply grieve over Tenten and Neji's relationship, but a person who would be quite angry at their… "progression," or more importantly, lack thereof. Just like me, I see him becoming quite frustrated, and that is the reason for his bitter tone.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

**PLEASE READ FIRST: **I _highly_ recommend using the commas as they should be used – that is, please treat them as **slight** pauses – because it adds to dramatic effect. Also, the parts in Neji's and Sakura's POV where it seems as if I simply forgot about all standards of grammar and writing, I DID NOT. I did so to simulate a stream of consciousness, so as to show the chaos and turmoil of both Neji's and Sakura's psyches. IT WILL MAKE SENSE. Especially if read right, I think that Neji's section will seem a lot better.

NOW, onto the story! I hope that you enjoy!

--

"Neji."

A strong and authoritative voice rang out through the room, demanding attention, and Neji complied, turning his head slightly towards the voice and lazily rising his eyes to meet those of his tall elder.

"Yes, Hiashi-sama?"

Hiashi-sama stood regally, but his usually indifferent air was tinged noticeably with a condescending look that made Neji's hackles rise. His sharp eyes took in the sight before him: his dead-brother's son, standing defiantly in front of him, dressed not in the traditional robes of the Hyuuga family, but in another clans _rags_. Disdain tainted his brow as he regarded his nephew's attire – the very fact that Neji consented to wear those insipid robes, instead of the traditional Hyuuga garb, cast the utmost shame upon his name. (1)

"As a branch member, you should have felt honored that I would allow you to wear the Hyuuga emblem on your wedding day. But the fool has refused. Why?" Hiashi-sama asked in a voice that didn't quite succeed in covering his irritation.

Neji regarded him as he had for the last twenty years of his life: with an involuntary patience and an unlimited amount of irritation. His eyes did not waiver from those of the elder Hyuuga, but instead hardened – he refused to allow the proud clan head to move him. He had fought long and hard for the "privilege" to marry, on _his own_ terms, and no wind, rain, or fist would take that "privilege" away. Not when he was so close. Not when he was a mere hour and a half from attaining what had, only months ago, seemed so illusory.

And ever the stubborn horse, Neji replied in a voice that was as sharp as it was calm.

"I am in the robes of the family that I now _belong _to."

Hiashi-sama's quick intake of breath could barely be considered a gasp by any normal standard – but the Hyuuga household could never be considered "normal." Considering the Hyuuga personality, that seemingly small breath was beyond significant – it represented the blow that those words struck to the very structure of the Hyuuga household. Never, in the _history_ of the clan's existence, had any man defected to his wife's family. (2)

Never.

To do so, would be to suggest that the woman's family now gained a certain superiority over her husband's family. And to the members of the one of the most powerful clans in all of Konoha, this was simply unacceptable. The fact that Neji now seemed to swear _allegiance_ to a clan that was not only outside the Hyuuga family line, but also a **weaker** clan, was a move that could neither be ignored nor forgiven.

"_What did you say?_" Hiashi-sama hissed dangerously between his teeth.

Neji knew the implications of his words, but refused to take them back. He finally _did_ belong; in the Haruno household, he finally found the acceptance he–

…

No.

No, not acceptance…

The only feeling of true belonging he felt was in _her_ arms, arms that held him so softly, an embrace that he wished hoped to have…

And Neji's throat tightened as he tried stem the thought, tried to keep his mind closed to the dream, to the wish that his heart whispered so treacherously; tried to close his mind to a voice who dangled a future in front of his eyes, dangled a possibility that seemed so easy as it haunted his dreams, his waking hours; an image that appeared so clearly behind his eyelids when his iron will failed – an image of _forever_.

"_She could be yours forever."_

And sometimes…

Sometimes, he couldn't help but give in; he couldn't help allowing himself to wallow, utterly and completely, in his sweet moment of weakness.

_Mine._

_Mine. And Mine Alone._

"…_Fuck._"

As Neji shook his head and foolishly turned his back towards the now infuriated Clan head, only one thought resounded within the recesses of his mind:

_What was he **doing**?_

* * *

To say that she was surprised to be in this quaint church, getting ready for perhaps one of the greatest days of her life was absurd. Never could it be said that Haruno Sakura did not fantasize about the day that was purported to change her life, her outlook on the world; birds were supposed to sing out, ring out like the great bells of a cathedral; the sun was supposed to shine as if smiling down, blessing this fated union; the _world_ would seem to brighten as if it was saying, "Yes. Yes. Live in happiness Sakura. Live in Joy!" 

No, Haruno Sakura never doubted that one day, she would be dressed in her grandmothers clothes, having her mother skillfully apply her make up, having her best friend Ino arrange her hair so that it flowed as gracefully as petals drift silently downward, into the water.

"But…"

But she expected her stream to be dark and mysterious, a silent force that could, all at once, become a raging rapid. She expected it to flow silently onward, never ceasing, never faltering.

She expected her stream, her river, her raging rapid to be Uchiha Sasuke. (3)

But even Haruno Sakura could not be perfect.

She never expected herself to drift into the arms of man who could all at once penetrate her iron mask – the fruits of an inability to play God (4) – shake the vulnerable girl underneath, and thereby threaten the very foundation of her sanity. She never expected herself to wander into the gaze of such a man, and she certainly never expected herself to fall in love with him.

Ha.

"But," Sakura wondered aloud, "Nothing I predicted, _expected_ has come true…."

It was not her mother who was "skillfully applying her make up," it was not Ino who was "arranging her hair," and it certainly was not her grandmother's moth ridden wedding dress that hung stiffly on her body. No, those were illusions of the past – a past that now seemed so fantastical. Those were the shattered fragments of the dream of a sixteen years old girl – a girl who tried desperately to cling to those illusions as she sat weakly in a hospital room; those were the pieces that lay scattered in her heart as she watched her best friend slowly die before her eyes, slowly chill faster than the blood now staining her hands. (5)

And she finally accepted the death of such foolishness as she laid flowers on the graves of her friends, her family, her loved ones – her way of living did not allow for such things, for such dreams, for such a future.

And that is why, when Neji proposed she accepted.

Not because she held any _love_ for him, not because she expected him to revive those dreams and make her shattered illusions a reality, but because in him she had found a measure of stability, had created the hope that maybe this time, he wouldn't die.

That is, in him, she had the reassurance that he would _come back to her_.

And to her fragile psyche, that was reason enough.

"Dearly beloved…" 

He couldn't move his eyes – they were riveted to the beautiful face before him. Her sharp brown eyes glittered beautifully, and her features were illuminated by the soft glow drifting through the tall windows.

* * *

"_We have gathered here to day…"_

The long, sheer veil did little to mask the absolute happiness in her face – it shined with a conviction he knew to be genuine. She had always been sincere with him, and it was that honesty that first drew her to him. Not her strength, or accuracy, or wit, but her _emotion_: her ability to express those raging emotions that secretly tore him apart. She was his anger, and in the end, she became his sadness – she took on a burden that was rightfully his to bear alone, and simply smiled. She _wanted_ to share in his pain for the sole purpose of lightening his burden. Nothing more. Nothing less. (6)

_"To join together in holy matrimony…" _

As he held her hands in his, he could feel the strength in them, the absolute power locked within: the power over life and the power over death, the power over happiness and the power over despair. His happiness and his despair.

_"Hyuuga Neji…" _

As he stared, he saw before him a life that wasn't dominated by the drive for revenge, that didn't revolve around fate or destiny, that wasn't controlled by the dark dice man. He saw before him everything that he had ever dreamed of: a woman who could and would stay by his side until time stopped, until the watchman's clock broke. (7) And with a tug at his heart-strings, he saw his future: the small children practicing the Gentle Fist, their first day at the Academy, their first mission, and their first victory. In those beautiful brown eyes, he found peace and reassurance – he knew he was doing the right thing.

"_And Haruno Sakura."_

And suddenly, her eyes changed – Who was he marrying again?

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

So, there is the second chapter – it only took me – _what?_ – about seven months? **Many apologies!** **And a special thanks to all those who reviewed:**

Sporty-wolf-of-summer, twighlight16, braided, el, FireDragonBL, Xin, Kodoku, HimeHikari, DragonStorm85, Nitouryuu, sasukekun'sgirl16, Xx-S H I N O B I-xX, xiaojiang, Silver Magiccraft, kafwinn, Star, Hyuuga's Winged Guardian.

You all rock.

**And thanks to all those who read my story – 567 hits! Whoot whoot. **

In other news, I really hope that this story isn't moving too slowly for you all – I'm trying to enter the minds of all of my main characters first. But there will definitely be some interaction between Neji and Tenten coming up… I just have to think it up first. Eek! )

And now for all of the little '_what the fuck?' _questions you might having:

_Disdain tainted his brow as he regarded his nephew's attire – the very fact that Neji consented to wear those insipid robes, instead of the traditional Hyuuga garb, cast the utmost shame upon his name. (1) _Ambiguity is intended. His Hiashi or Neji? Your choice – either one is fitting, but I truly intended it to have both meanings.

_Considering the Hyuuga personality, that seemingly small breath was beyond significant – it represented the blow that those words struck to the very structure of the Hyuuga household. Never, in the history of the clan's existence, had any man defected to his wife's family. (2) _Please notice the word choice: "…**defected** to his wife's family" not "**left** to his wife's family." – 'Defected' means to have deserted, or abandoned your position or association, usually in order to join an opposing group, while 'left' does not carry that same gravity.

_The water metaphor I use at the beginning of Sakura's POV._ WELL, I aimed to continue a water metaphor throughout the beginning – e.g. the use of 'flowed,' and 'drift' in: "…_ arranged her hair so that it flowed as gracefully as petals drift silently downward, into the water."_ The journey downward (and there is no significance in traveling _downward_) from the supposed branch to the water you could suppose to be Sakura's journey towards attaining Sasuke, but I really did not aim to do that. However, the water metaphor really began with representing Sasuke as a _stream, a river, and a raging rapid._ Make any sense yet? I think not. So, in the simplest terms, I see Sasuke as water – he can be as violent as a rapid, as calm as a stream, or a cold as an iced river; Sakura ending up with Sasuke is so uncertain, it is akin to a single petal actually landing in the water below instead of being blown ashore or somewhere else. Furthermore, the use of 'drift' allows it to seem as if Sakura is subject to Fate, to an outside force that she cannot control – sound familiar to Neji's sermons on Fate?

_The fruits of an inability to play God._ (4) So, as I suggested in my A_uthor's Notes, Chapter One_, Tenten and Sakura have seen two completely different sides of death – one has been an angel of death, and one has tried to stem the cold grip of death. Accordingly, when Sakura was unable to save her comrades/patients, she created an iron mask, a seemingly impenetrable wall between herself and the death that constantly surrounds her. Like any shinobi who tries to dissociate him/herself for the death that they bring, so does Sakura – her "inability to play God," that is her inability to save those under her care, has created the same result: a disconnect between her psyche and her job. _Email me if you still don't understand. _

_Those were the pieces that lay scattered in her heart as she watched her best friend slowly die before her eyes, slowly chill faster than the blood now staining her hands. (5)_ Again, ambiguity is intended. _Her hands _Ino's or Sakura's or someone else's? Furthermore, these deaths that I allude to now shall be explained later – I really can't tell you who is to die and who isn't, but by context, it seems as if Ino dies – however, I may or may not have her die. _Eek!_ to those Ino fans.

_She (6) _If** you do not understand who 'She' is by the end of the section, I am either a great writer, or you should REREAD IT. **What pairing am I writing for? Hmm? Once you understand who _She_ is, you will understand the "burden" that I am talking about. _Email me if you still do not understand. _

_As he stared, he saw before him a life that wasn't dominated by the drive for revenge, that didn't revolve around fate or destiny, that wasn't controlled by the dark dice man. He saw before him everything that he had ever dreamed of: a woman who could and would stay by his side until time stopped, until the watchman's clock broke. (7) _So, there isn't really an explanation to this, I just wanted you all to realize that the use of "dice man" and "watchman's clock" are both shameless adaptations from William Faulkner's _The Sound and the Fury._ A great book that I highly recommend – but only if you HAVE to read it; if you try to read it without help, you won't understand half of it. BUT if you do happen to read it in school or with help, DON'T GIVE UP – it really is a great book.

SORRY SHAMELESS PLUG. )

Well, that's it! Hopefully it won't take me another seven months for an update, but I really hope that you all review! It truly does motivate me! And again, if you do review, please tell me what you think not only about the story, but also writing, plot, characterization, and tone; and if you have any suggestions, please don't hesitate to tell me! If you don't like it, please tell me _what went wrong_, just don't flame me.

**THANK YOU ALL!**

QBC.


	3. Chapter 3: Chaos

These "**Guidelines**" are important, however **you do NOT really need them** - they are simply here too clarify any confusion about who is speaking (i.e., the speaker of each line of speech). If you want to read the chapter first and see if your skills of deduction are truly amazing, then I think it would be better. If not, these guidelines are here for your assistance.

**Again, I would suggest braving the chapter before reading all of these guidelines. The guidelines make the chapter seem harder than it actually is - However, **the **first **guidelines are quite helpful when trying to figure out who speaks the words encased by quotation marks/apostrophes.

**Guidelines – **The Flashback

Now, this is very important if you are going to understand the first section AT ALL. This chapter begins with a flashback: a conversation between Tenten and Neji that is ESSENTIAL to the plot; it begins with Tenten asking a question, and then **dialogue switches back and forth between the two**. I have forsaken the use of quotation marks to give the illusion of lucidity, to in effect, take out all of the extra commentary of the narrator and simply give the words, reactions, and thoughts of each character.

**However**, there is a couple of instances when you will find interposed commentary by the narrator who, in this one conversation, will give the final word on the conversation – If you have ever seen a _Twilight Zone _episode or one of Hitchcock's films, you will hopefully remember that one of the distinguishing features was that Hitchcock or Rod Sterling (the narrator and host of TZ) would give background information at the beginning, and Rod Sterling would give his own moral/interpretation/judgment at the end of the episode. That is what I am essentially replicating; **I have denoted these comments with the use of an apostrophe **at the beginning and the end of the comment.

I SUGGEST GO READING THE STORY NOW.

**Guidelines – **The Entrance (third section)

I really don't to give away the new character (not an OC, simply a canon character not previously introduced), so if you have trouble with the third section, I have posted the guidelines for it at the bottom of the chapter; but I think that it throws a nice twist into the story if you dont know who it is.

**However**, here is a simple way of reading it - this section is basically thought by both Tenten and XXX at the same time, and the normal type represents the thoughts that they think and the sentiments that they feel simultaneously. The italisized type represents the only time that their thoughts diverge from eachother - when they have a different reaction to the same previous thought. **XXX's thought will come first, and then Tenten's. **Any bolded, italisized type are just emotion/motions of the audience (including Neji and Sakura).

Now on to the story!

---

Do you ever find it strange how our comrades are so caught up in _love_?

No.

Really now? _Skeptical. Doubtful._

Yes. I have no time to wonder about their frivolous palpitations of the heart. _Irritated. Dismissive. _

But you should wonder, or at least take a certain interest. _Playful. Teasing._

_He makes no response. He need not._

They are to be the _stable_ minds, the _confident_ hands that cover your ass in the field. You would not want me to be fretting over my recent heartache going into a mission.

You would not. You have not heartache. _Certain. Smug._

_Teasing lost. A flash of pain. An empty voice laced with anger. _Oh?

Yes. You have the presence of mind to not take emotions onto the field. _Certain still. Unease is unacceptable, unnecessary – or so he thinks.** So he hopes. **_

_A puff of warm air dissipates in the still of the night. A sigh. _How very true.

_Agreement restores his certainty. He is confident once more. _

How very strange we shinobi are.

_She says Shinobi, never Kunochi. The distinction is clear; the line is drawn. Always Shinobi. Never Kunochi._

We live for the complexity, and yet the simplicity of the battlefield, the silence and the roar of combat; we willingly throw our minds and _souls _into chaos by accepting death and moving forward; we willingly _sacrifice_ ourselves by chaining our emotions, our human feelings, to a room or in a box; and then we willingly let go, and simply forget we are human before the roar of field, the screams and gurgles of a man's last breath, the sound of falling bodies fills our ears and invades our minds.

_Ah! Here it is. What she wanted to say all along._

And then we leave, escape from the cacophony of noise. Bird songs replace screams; a _thunk_ is simply a footfall; a _hiss_ is simply 'exhale', the prelude to 'inhale', the prelude to life. We are never the same, always a little more damaged than before. But ready and willing to return to our element: our cacophony of noise.

What is your point? _On edge. She speaks with a clarity, an exactness that sends shivers down his spine. _

So, what do I do when the din of the field is not invading and overwhelming my senses? **_I_** cannot unlock my heart every time I come home. (1) So, how do they love? How do they find the time to be _human_?

_She can feel his sudden unease with her uncharacteristic soliloquy. But she has to make her point; she has to make him see because his eyebrows are creasing together and his mind is becoming lost – all he can clearly convey is confusion: Is this Tenten?_

I could say that love is a fickle thing, a complicated thing, an enigma. But that would be too cliché. The cold, cruel truth is that love has no place in our world – we have neither the time nor the emotional stability to cope with the loss of both friends and lovers.

_And now he cannot stop her. _

Say, for instance, that I was in love with you.

_He could mute her voice, and stem the flow of words. But he cannot._

I wouldn't tell you. Not because of fright. Not because I felt an irrational and senseless duty to sacrifice myself for your _feelings_ – you would not indulge in them anyways, so why die for something that is already cast away? **A shinobi's sacrifice must always have meaning, or else we die without dignity.** (2)

_A sardonic laugh. A whispered comment. _Oh how those words sound so familiar.

No. I would not sacrifice _everything_ for the sake of "_my one true love_." I would simply give you what my path already demands I cut away: **_my heart_**.

_A sigh. An ache. He cannot answer. His certainty is gone. _

'_Exhaustion is simple, useful, and yet dangerous: it traps your mind in murky waters, weakening walls, unlocking lips; it allows the mind to wander into corridors, rooms, niches of the psyche submerged by the ruthlessness of the conscious mind. And when you are finally lulled into that sweet, seemingly infinite realm of relaxation, of peace, thoughts, ideas, theories seems to simply flow through your mind and out of your mouth. _

_Implications do not register in the realm of In-between – they do not matter. Just as the still of the night creates clarity of thought – problems seem to simply solve themselves, even when time and again, those solutions unravel in the harsh morning light – so does the In-between give a sparkling moment of clarity to the tumultuous feelings plaguing and confusing a woman who has not yet reconciled her human heart with her heartless calling.'_

---

There is an instance in a wedding, when the priest turns over to his audience the power of final decision: he puts into their hands the power to stop the union, to end what they determine would only bring intolerable suffering. And in this instance, the priest and the couple always take a gamble – the guests should be composed of trusted friends and family members, for who would invite a bitter lover, a spited friend, an enemy.

For a single instance, the happy aura becomes tainted, burdened – all it truly takes is a few simple words, a single utterance to throw such a joyous day into utter chaos. The couple has placed their ultimate trust in those they love – their special people.

They think they do not doubt; that they _should not_ doubt. _But they do._

Their hearts skip a beat; eyes dart nervously back and forth. They do not trust. They do not believe.

_And they shouldn't. _

Because a wedding is a gamble – some gamblers are **_fated_** to lose.

_Thoughts **whirl twist** **tumble**. _

_Chaos has begun. _

---

Sacrifice caused a wound. Selflessness caused the wound to fester. Doubting. Hesitating. Faltering.

_He already knows this. He's only angered at his own weakness._

_She shrinks back; she is too tempted._

How do you chase a dream that is so at odds with all the others?

_He is told: An avenger must be alone. But his hands remember all too well the feel of her petal like skin – Sakura is a good name._

_A Shinobi. A warrior. "For the good of the village" is all she knows. "For the good of thyself" cannot be understood._

Why do you **need** when it would only get in the way?

_Because._

_Because…_

Because that slim chance of success, of achieving what has only been imagined hangs so temptingly near that it lures you, calls like a siren's song.

And you are caught.

You fall; you crash your ship willingly into the rocky shore – thinking not the warnings, of the ones who have fallen before you, but only of the siren, the song, the call. (3)

Thinking only of the prize: that utterly selfish, and yet so gratifying taste of triumph, of finally _finally_ having what you need, what you **want**.

_He objects. _

_She …objects._

"I object." Decision made.

_**Eyes snapped open.**_

_**A pulse stopped. A heart began to beat, quicken.**_

_**Breath hissed. Sharp intake. And out again in disbelief. Anger. Anticipation.**_

In the single, brief pause between one breath and the next, between the end of a sentence and the beginning of the next, things change

_…What do you do when you place all of your cards on the table?_

_…What do you do when you go all in?_

**Hope. **

---

**TO BE CONTINUED. **

**NOW, **if you haven't already, go read the guidelines at the beginning of the story, or if you simply have questions about the last section, see below:

**Guidelines for the third section:**

This section is slightly more confusing, but here are the guidelines for reading the section:

1. Anything in NORMAL type/bolded normal type is the thought of both Tenten and Sasuke - a sentiment that they feel and think simultaneously.

2. If there are two _Italisized _lines following a line in NORMAL type, these lines represent the individual thoughts of Sasuke and Tenten in response to the line in NORMAL type directly above.

Hence it becomes:

Sacrifice caused a wound. Selflessness caused the wound to fester. _Doubting. Hesitating. Faltering. _(This thought is shared by both)

_He already knows this. He's only angered at his own weakness. (Sasuke)_

_She shrinks back; she is too tempted. (Tenten)_

3. Any type that is _**Italisized and Bolded **_represents emotion or an action of the audience.

YOSH! That is the end of the third chapter, and it only took me **two months**! I think that is a definite improvement from seven, ja?

Actually, this is the last day of summer for me, and I really wanted to get it out before summer ended – I had promised myself that I would make progress on this story before the summer ended. So, here we are: a post at the beginning of my summer and at the end. Again, **YOSH!**

**Thank you to all those who reviewed!**

Naash, sporty-wolf-of-summer, wildcat, xx.faith, Kodoku, twighlight16, ItaItaParadse, Tenshi no Jigoku, yunikka24, unexpection, Ennariel (HAHA you're review was so funny! "Bitchslap" had me rolling for days!) xiaojiang, Nitouryuu, sasukekun'sgirl16, JWUP, jela, wonderful, moongrace, KaiTheQuickstrike, and Tanya Lilac.

**Thank you to all who added me to their favorites list! **

**Thank you to all who read also! 1165 hits! **…Now, if all who read would only review. Hahaha. Just kidding.

**SO, **I think the big kicker this chapter was the formatting. I was trying to convey the emotions of two characters simultaneously, and that is the real reason my writing style changed so much – I hope it didn't throw anyone off or turn anyone off.

On another note – and this is really important – **is the slow pace of this story turning people off? **I'm trying to move it along, but I don't like to sacrifice quality for the sake of moving things along. Too often I don't see enough development in the characters themselves, and I'm left to interpret too much – I would like the author to show the motives. But **please answer**!

I don't think there were too many _'What the fuck?'_ questions, but there were a few things I would like to point out:

(1) _I never say, "return home," instead saying, "return to the battlefield." Thus I make the distinction between "go/come" and "return." _I use this only for Tenten – the reasons/implications are really up in the air. I at first only meant to show another distinction made in Tenten's mind that reveals how disjointed and confused she has become: to refer to the battlefield as your "home" and yet to crave for the warmth and _human_ aspects of the village seems to shout subconscious confusion. However, you are free to ignore such word choice if you want.

(2) Neji never actually says this, but it's something that I've deduced from his character. It is not a canon belief of his, but I think I am safe in assuming that he would not disagree with it.

(3) The Sirens: In Greek mythology, the Sirens were nymphs who lived on an island which was surrounded by cliffs and rocks; approaching saliors were drawn to them by their enchanting singing, causing them to said on the cliffs and drown. Explanation drawn from Wikipedia . org because they summarize better that I do I used the sirens be cause I found the allure of "the prize: that utterly selfish, and yet so gratifying taste of triumph, of finally finally having what you need, what you **want**" very much like the Siren's song, and just as dangerous.

WELL, that is it for now. I hope you enjoyed!

_And again, if you do review, please tell me what you think not only about the story, but also writing, plot, characterization, and tone; and if you have any suggestions, please don't hesitate to tell me! If you don't like it, please tell me what went wrong, just don't flame me._

**Because of the experimentation in style, I would really appreciate it if you did review. I NEED to know if this kind of writing is detrimental to the **"**health**"** of my story. A response is much appreciated. **


	4. Chapter 4

Hello again!

So, I hope that this chapter is a reward for trudging through the last chapter – thank you all who did and gave me feed back! You don't understand how much it helped!

Second of all, I'd like to tell you all my goal for this story: To make this couple's experiences as real life as possible – that means, that while I know we all like those moments of impossible romance, I aim to make this couple go through the trials and tribulations that we ourselves (real people) go through. Maybe this is a statement of hope, but I didn't really have such philosophical goals when I wrote this. Honestly, I got tired to magic and miracles solving everything – don't get me wrong, when a miracle is done right, it's **amazing** and I love it – and chose to write my "real life" version of this delicious couple!

Now, I usually don't do this, but here are some music suggestions for this chapter:

"Life is for Living" by Coldplay, Parachutes

"Sing Softly To Me" by Kings of Convenience, Quiet is the New Loud

"The House Wins" by OK Go, Oh No.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto. I also do not own George Cloony's _Good Night and Good Luck_. (Nothing plot wise was taken from this movie)

Also, major thank you to Crypto-Mae for one quote that inspired and influenced the Sasuke POV.

* * *

_Clink. _

The ice rolled clumsily around in his brandy glass, falling helplessly one way and then in the other as he swirled his smooth relief. He stared sightlessly at the bronze liquid, _swirling swirling_, and the stool a cold comfort underneath his thighs, the counter a willing resting place for his elbows.

Hunched – his jacket lay haphazardly on the glass top, and his wallet lay open and bare beside him. The silk shirt that hung so stiffly from the hanger that morning, now crinkled and folded easily over his stomach and into his pants – it could not retain such rigidity, such _structure,_ in the course of his _confusingchaoticsurprisingly _depressing day.The low light reflected off the rows upon rows of bottles – sake, vodka, brandy, whiskey, _moonshine_ – igniting an eerie glow within each, a glow that seemed to call out to the poor and aimless, the tired and depressed. _Him._

_Clink. _He was only drinking ice now.

"Good God, what a day!" A voice entered the room, and rang out sharply against his silence. "Can you believe what happened? Konoha will buzz for weeks!"

"More, if Ino has anything to say about it." The loud voice had a companion. But they were voices that rang no cord in his mind, voices that _knew too much_.

"Ha! How right you are. By the time she's done with the story, the groom will have run off with the best man, and the bride left in pieces on the alter! Although, I must say, it wouldn't be so hard to believe – after what I saw today, I think I'll believe anything. Can you imagine tomorrow's headline? Ha! _'Uchiha Heir attempts to ruin Hyuuga wedding'."_

_Crink._

"My god, what a day tomorrow will be!"

"Two brandies please. Mhm! And to think, that isn't even the best part!"

His grip tightened, and his shoulders straightened. _Crink._ A spider web of cracks spread over the surface of the cup; the ice was silent – the room was silent; the room tensed. His eyes no longer stared sightlessly forward, but seemed to stare right out of his back – the sick depression flowed off and away from his skin, and an eager anger settled easily in its place. _CrinkCrink_. The spider spun its webs faster and faster over the sides of the glass.

"Yes Yes!" A quick drink from his glowing glass of bronze. "Ahh! That hit the spot…. Well, I guess your right – the headlines should read:

'_Uchiha heir **fails** to stop Hyuuga wedding.'_"

_Shatter. _

The cup is in pieces, and his hand is bleeding, but the blood roars in his ears and above the din '_Uchiha heir **fails** to stop…'_ repeats endlessly, mercilessly.

Again. Again. _And again._

"My, what an earth _shattering_ day…."

* * *

"_**I object."**_

_The two words resound through the high ceilings, weaving over and in-between each sakura blossom, all the while, silently lacing the tightly wound air with a sharp edge of menace – smiles slowly begin to fall away, and the guests become antsy as the poignant atmosphere settles heavily on their shoulders. And yet, it is the echoing silence that makes the air thicken and ripple and undulate; a heavy and oppressing silence that whispers expectantly, excitedly; a silence that points a shadowy finder towards an unseen **and yet obvious** decay, towards an impending breakdown._

_But the priest asked, "Why do you object?" _

_And he couldn't immediately answer._

* * *

_Click._

He silently closed the door and threw his keys onto the side table as an unseeing hand reached out to turn off the hallway light; silent feet treaded unthinkingly over cold hardwood floors, bringing him down a barely illuminated hallway, through patches of icy moonlight to the nondescript door of his bedroom. Again an unseeing hand reached out to grasp the cold doorknob, barely recognizing the sharp bite of the cool metal, and turned, allowing him to enter his eerily bare bedroom. Only now did a pair of eyes take in its lacking quality: the bare walls, the dark sheets, and the mantel piece that seemed to be unacceptably bare – the emptiness irksome like a sentence unfinished. (1) The eyes narrowed, trying to think of why his room lacked all the signs of life, all signs of _his_ life and existence – it was chilling to think that he could not even leave a mark on his most intimate room, the room he had spent a good deal of his life in.

His mind moved beyond the bare room and his eyes gazed sightlessly downward as he digested the possibility that after he died, there could be no testament to his life, no reminder of _Uchiha Sasuke._

But as he moved to leave his desolate room, a strange light caught his eye: covered in the shadows of his curtains and resting on a small bedside table was a framed sketching. He tried to remember why he had kept the picture, had even replaced that old, awkward photograph of Team Seven, with this one: the image of him and Naruto napping beneath a great magnolia with Sakura's crossed legs peeking in at the edge, an image that captured the essence of their hard won tranquility.

And he mused, that maybe it was this picture – its soothing sense of unity – that caused him to react so fiercely to her marriage: while he would never invite anything beyond a bone deep loyalty and friendship, he could not ignore the fact that she was, perhaps, one of his closest comrades, one of two that he would ever truly care for. For no matter how vehemently he denied Naruto's declaration, it was simple truth that he returned to Konoha for his team, for the only two who ever would understand _him _– his quest, his betrayal, and his _priorities_.

And so he returned – not because of any feelings of loyalty or nostalgia, but _for them. _The bond between them called, _ached_ for him to return to them, and so he did.

But without Sakura, the bond was incomplete, and thus there was no "Team Seven" to return to: she was the dash of brilliance to balance wit and strength, the soothing murmurs of comfort in the night, and the fierce loyalty that glued together and completed the trio.

And beyond a shadow of a doubt, Sakura _completed the trio _– without her, his new family could be never be at peace, and that _"hard won tranquility"_ would evaporate like mist in the noonday sun.

So when she told them_ him_ that she was marrying – _leaving them for another, casting off her old ties and moving onward and **away**_ – he suddenly found that he didn't care if it meant challenging the oldest Clan in Konoha.

Like he said before, he never had any ties to the village itself – only his two special people within.

* * *

"_I object…"_

_**Soft**. An unconscious whisper never meant to be said aloud, but an admission ripped from her very soul; it was the truth that saturated her skin and racked her mind, a truth made her palms sweat and her stomach clench and her eyes dilate: the truth she fled from, was fleeing from. The truth underneath the pain, the reason her treacherous heart wished the marriage would **fail**._

_But Hiashi-sama knew it was the truth. "Will you stand?"_

_And as she ducked her head and curled within herself, her soft response floated to his ears, "No." _

_But Hanabi's sharp voice was her only answer, "Then **shut up**."_

* * *

When Anko hopped through Tenten's window late that night, carrying a single black envelope, her brow furrowed and her mouth frowned as she caught Tenten's quiet sigh of relief. As Anko silently took in the desperate hunger Tenten's eye, noticed the way the girl's hands clung to the unopened envelope, she briefly questioned Tsunade's logic.

While a mission would be the prefect escape, and an assassination mission would definitely take the edge off this devastating turn of events…

A mission with _Haruno Sakura_?

_Wait_….

And despite her best attempts, Anko couldn't help a bitter thought from surfacing. 'Tch. She's not a _Haruno_ anymore, is she?'

And as Anko left, she couldn't keep herself from feeling that this mission was quite simply a _bad idea_, and that Godaime was one fucked up woman.

* * *

"_Why do you object?"_

_In the single, brief pause between one breath and the next, between the end of a sentence and the beginning of the next, the room waited in anticipation; the couple teetered on the edge of hope, swaying dangerously back and forth between the dark abyss of marriage and the glorious expanse of freedom; they hovered on the next breath, hung on the next words. _

"_Because she will **rot** within those walls and under all of those eyes."_

_But the priest did not look convinced, and as he prepared to pronounce his disbelief, Naruto's voice rang out. "And because she belongs **to us**."_

_At this protest died and hope surged. But a simple question unraveled it all._

"_How?"_

* * *

Godaime sunk into her chair and swirled her cup of sake – tonight was not supposed to be a night to become drunk, nor a night to drown the day away. Today was her student's wedding day and tonight would be a night of celebration. But as she silently looked out onto her village, she knew that tonight was not a night for celebration, just as today was not a day of celebration.

_ANBU Member Dragon One._

Tsunade sighed as she turned from her office windows and stared sightlessly into the dimly lit room.

_You are to travel to Lightning Country and report to Raikage – you have been commissioned to assassinate Utagawa Isamu._

The sake sloshed over the rim of the cup, spilling onto the wooden table. Tsunade's eyes uncaringly watched.

_You are expected to lead your three-man team: Dragon One, Hawk Three, and Eagle Two. _

The sake tasted bitter and for once, burned as it slid silently down her throat.

_You are expected back in two weeks. _

**_Shatter. _**The cup is in pieces, and her hand is bleeding, but the silence roars in her ears and above the din, she cannot help but think that she is making a horrible mistake. If Tenten did not learn to overcome her anguish, if she could not learn to protect her teammate who was also her new enemy, then Sakura would die. Painfully, Sakura would learn what it meant to be a _Hyuuga_, a Hyuuga in Lightening Country.

_Goodnight, and good luck._

* * *

"_How?"_

_Sasuke's mind stuttered to a stop because neither he nor Naruto could quite articulate the bond that flowed between the trio, not even in this time of desperation. _

_But the priest's eyes narrowed as his question was met with silence, and his dangerous whisper filled the room:_

"_Unless you are in some way **legally bound** to Haruno-san, you have no grounds for objection."_

_And with that single pronouncement, Hope fizzled and evaporated in the noonday sun._

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

Well, now that only took me… four months? Sorry about that, but honestly this was one of the hardest chapters to write. I have to get this story moving, and the next little saga (the mission) is basically why I chose to write this story – it was the idea that this story was formed around.

**(1) ALSO, **major credit goes to Crypto-Mae for this one quote that inspired the Sasuke POV (and yes, she does take credit for one of the sentences in the that POV):

"Yet there was something hanging in the air, irksome like a sentence unfinished. Beneath the surface was something intangible, the outwardly idyllic picture incomplete."

**Some words on this chapter **(each paragraph is a different thought)

The first POV can be either Neji or Sasuke – I originally wrote it to be Neji, but after writing it, I realized that it could be applied to either. Now, I kind of feel that it more resembles a Sasuke train of thought. But not matter, Neji will most likely reenter in the next chapter.

If you don't understand that either _Hawk Three_ or _Eagle Two _are Sakura, you should go back and re-read those sections. I think I make it very clear that Sakura is going on the mission with Tenten, and therefore must be on of those two.

**On the "objection."** I am almost positive that this is true – unless there is some legal issue with the marriage, simple opinion on whether or not you agree with the wedding will not be grounds for the wedding dismissed. The only reason that opinion could impact a wedding is if either the bride or groom chose to not be wed because of the pronounced objection. However, also remember that a wedding ceremony is simply that – a ceremony. The only legally binding procession is when you go downtown and obtain a marriage license, and become legally married by your city government. Furthermore, a marriage ceremony usually cannot be held **until** that marriage license is obtained (that is, the priest cannot perform the ceremony until there is proof of marriage). And yes, that last little tid bit does seem to go against my story, but it will be addressed later on.

I think that you all noticed that many ideas, thoughts, and even exact words were used again – that repetition was not because I simply could not think up new metaphors or images: I chose to specifically use the same lines again to create this a sense of 'cycle' in this chapter; that is, in each part and in each person's POV, I want you to be reminded (by the reused lines) of something that happened before, some thought or sentiment that another character thought/felt. And by because of that reuse, I feel that the feeling behind those words becomes more poignant: by hearing (or reading) the same words in different situations, the readers can come to understand that kind of feeling or meaning that I am striving to convey, whether it be despair, anger, stillness.

The instances of "reused lines":

'_The cup is in pieces, and his hand is bleeding, but the blood/silence roars in his/her ears and above the din…'_ (Neji/Sasuke/Tsunade)

'…_evaporate like mist in the noonday sun.' _ (Sasuke/Ending Flashback)

'_In the single, brief pause between one breath and the next, between the end of a sentence and the beginning of the next, things change/the room waited in anticipation." _(Chapter 3 Ending Scene/Third Flashback)

**THANK YOU ALL WHO REVIEWED!**

dreaming.sapphire, TejiLuver, nejitanfan, asn water, lildaemon, Tenshi no Jigoku, Annie, Vulpeculae, WitchyMage, saishenoyama, Midnight Green, naash, rain angst, lit0tammy, silver9tails, winderful1, Kodoku, wildcat, Nitouryuu, Ennariel, Tanya Lilac!

_And again, if you do review, please tell me what you think not only about the story, but also writing, plot, characterization, and tone; and if you have any suggestions, please don't hesitate to tell me! If you don't like it, please tell me what went wrong, just don't flame me._


	5. Chapter 5

**I RETURN!**

And my writing style has returned to NORMALCY! I think all of you can be happy for that. (**_Please read the AN at the bottom_**)

Characters NOTE: Hitomi was the creation of Tanya Lilac in her amazing story "Paper Shuriken." I have taken Hitomi's name and abilities, but most of her characterization is my own. This was done with express permission from Ms. Lilac.

Structure NOTE: The interjected _italic phrases _or _italic sentences_ are Tenten's subconscious thoughts – they make sense, and are NOT complicated to follow (nothing even close to those dreaded 'Guidelines')

**Thank you for sticking with this story! **I hope you Enjoy!

ALSO, Chapter Six is under way - it is about a 30 done!!

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Naruto**_** or anything affiliated with **_**Naruto**_

_Chapter Five_

The _pitter-patter_ of rain resounded throughout the room, filling the deafening silence with an even greater cacophony of noise – the roar of raindrops played an eerie background music to the _gasps_ and cries that rose and fell like the sheets of rain that pounded again and again at the ground.

_Utagawa Isamu._

Her blade cut smoothly through his body; his flesh, his muscle, and his heart all yielding pathetically to the practiced motion of her blade. He fell and crumbled like a newborn: artlessly, stumbling and grasping blindly for someone _anyone_ to save him, to break his fall. He was blind in the darkness, deaf in the silence, and cowardly in the face of his death. His bony knees had shaken and knocked feebly before his death, and his panic stricken eyes had stared _begged_ fruitlessly as his lungs filled rapidly with his own blood.

He was pathetic. _And he was a pathetic diversion. _

She plopped unceremoniously onto the floor uncaring of the now cooling body inches from her knee, and the pool of blood creeping ominously toward her bottom: thick, red ink that stained the plush rug, forever leaving a reminder of the _brief and (in the end) inconsequential _life of the amateur drug smuggler.

But as she gazed upon his now still body, unconsciously wiping away the blood from her blade, she could not help but wonder why did he not struggle _rage_ against the dying of the light?

Why did he die _give up_ so easily?

Was there not something that he wanted _desperately desired_, something that could have spurred him to block the final downward arc of her blade, that could have spurred him to cry out against his fate? Was there nothing in his past and present that could have given him some cause to fight for his life _for his freedom_?

_Was he, too, trapped in the cold glare of twin full moons? In the harsh and unrelenting traditions that dictated he walk away from his freedom… _(1)

…_From her? _

Cold moonlight fell intrudingly into Utagawa's office, boldly _fruitlessly _trying to light the deeper shadows, but falling just short of the tips of her sandals – the accusatory glare of the moon was unable to reach her, unable to find her in the growing darkness that consumed the room. The storm raged as she calmly, methodically sat next to her victim, taking care and time to clean her blade of any residual blood.

_And was she, too, trapped by a similar set of rules and beliefs? A mindset that believed that emotion – our humanity – always came second to the Mission, to the Task._

This blade _a tool _and this Konoha symbol _a set of principles and beliefs_ – did they not consume her too?

Was she not trying to use both – her blade and this mission – as a means to escape reality?

But tonighther kill did nothing to settle her mind – her execution had been sloppy: dragging feet, weak wrists, and clipped and jerky motions that caused jagged lines to run across Utagawa's neck.

And she _knew _that if her old partner were here, he would say, "Sloppy and unfocused. Unacceptable."

"You were sloppy, Tenten-san."

Guarded eyes snapped towards the far corner of the room, the corner farthest away from the windows and bathed in shadows. Out of the void, Hitomi's voice drifted – the unappreciated assessment drifting smoothly and clearly over the static-like roar of the raindrops. Tenten paused briefly, her hand and clothe hovering hesitantly over the blade as if they too were waiting for Tenten's response; that brief pause, that all too telling uncertainty in her motion spoke volumes to the young Hyuuga. Her observant eyes read in Tenten's body language – in her sloppiness, in her inattention to her task – that tonight's kill was simply an attempt _a pathetic attempt_ to drown out the ruthless "what-ifs" that clamored inside her head, those dangerous and cruel voices that said: _You missed your chance_.

Tenten's hand resumed its methodical cleaning, and Tenten's voice was far more steady and empty than expected. "Is the target not dead?" (2) Hands and voice do actions, no reference to Tenten. Emphasize that the motions and words are more automatic and almost disconnected from her mind.

Hitomi's eyes narrowed, and a small frown blossomed onto her face. "What were you thinking of Tenten-san?"

And for a moment, Hitomi thought that maybe her leader would answer, that maybe her old friend would tell her why, throughout this entire mission, she had been unable to look Sakura in the eye, why she has fastidiously avoided being alone with the newest addition to the Clan.

"I would have expected more from you, Hawk Three. We are still assassins in Lightning Country, and you have used my name twice." It was now Tenten's voice that drifted calmly back into the shadows and cut through Hitomi's inquisitive thoughts, silencing her. But even before Hitomi could breathe in to speak, Tenten had already risen and, with a sharp and overly forceful motion, sheathed her katana; the blood was gone from her weapon, and the blade now gleamed as if new.

Tenten could not stop herself from briefly wishing she too could simply clean _rid _herself of the residue of her old life _and love_.

"It's time to leave. Go see if our teammate is ready to depart."

And with that Tenten faded back into shadows, narrowly escaping the streaking bolt of lightening that shot a flash of light into the room.

In the brief illumination provided, Hitomi's sad, opaque eyes could be seen following her old friend's hasty exit, before darkness again erupted and consumed the room.

* * *

Hitomi dropped into the front veranda of their hotel, landing behind her teammate who seemed engrossed in the storm raging just beyond the edge of the veranda; she looked out toward the storm and the surrounding forests and saw nothing but mist and woodland; she looked behind her and saw nothing but a vacant lobby and the entryway to the hotel. 

Nothing to hold anyone's attention. Nothing that should distract a Shinobi from detecting the approach and arrival of an enemy _or teammate_.

Hitomi let out an imperceptible sigh. 'You're also getting sloppy Sakura-san.'

In a clear voice, Hitomi called out to her errant teammate, "Eagle Two, are you ready?"

Sakura slowly pulled her gaze from the translucent veil of rain that shrouded the surrounding forest to look behind her and face her teammate's ominous, white mask, awkwardly decorated to resemble a hawk. From that hawk mask, pools of black hid her teammate's unnerving eyes, and Sakura wondered if, even now, her teammate was probing her mind, searching for answers to questions that were better left unanswered.

"Eagle Two, are you ready?"

"Did Tenten tell you why she has been avoiding me? Or did you simply take the answer from her?"

Hitomi's response was a bitter hiss. "You know I would never do that. _Never_."

"I forgot you two were so close."

Sakura returned her sight to the storm; the rain which before seemed to lull her into a meditative state, now raged angrily – it was as if the small water droplets that streaked downward and extended themselves into sharp, senbon-like needles were trying to punish the ground for some unknown misdeed.

The rain reminded her of _Sōshōryū_.

"Eagle Two, _are you ready to leave_?"

Sakura could remember the first time she met her strange teammate: Hitomi was sparing with Tenten in the center courtyard of the Hyuuga compound, under the watchful eye of both Hiashi-sama and Neji. As she would later find out, Hitomi was training to enter ANBU, and the Hyuuga Elders had commissioned Tenten – by that time, already an ANBU Capitan – to train her; the special attention seemed uncharacteristic of the Clan at first, but as she would later overhear from the maids, Hitomi was an anomaly in the Hyuuga bloodline, her unusual bloodlimit the result of a fortuitous genetic hiccup: she possessed all the standard (_standard!) _abilities of the Clan, but because of some chance rearranging of genes, her bloodlimit evolved into something more – she not only possessed the ability to activate her Byakugan without the tell-tale pulsing veins, but she could also…

Hn. She could also _read minds_.

"Ino would be so jealous."

"What?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

Hitomi's unseen eyebrow rose at Sakura's blasé answer, and her fist clenched involuntarily. "What the hell is wrong with you, Sakura?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"_Sakura _– " Hitomi stopped herself, closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath. _In. Out. _

_In. _

"Hito – "

_Out._ "What, Eagle Two?"

But instead of standing immobile near the pulsing rain, Sakura had moved; she now stood not two feet in front of Hitomi, her eyes boring into Hitomi's with a concentration so intense that Hitomi's hackles rose instinctively, as did the hairs on the back of her neck. Unconsciously, Hitomi's hand crept slowly toward the hilt of her sword, her mind racing as she tried to process Sakura's quick _suspicious_ change.

Sakura took another menacing step toward Hitomi, and in a flash Hitomi drew her sword.

_Ping._

A kunai ricocheted violently off of Hitomi's blade as she sidestepped Sakura and intercepted the weapon heading straight for Sakura's spine. She stared in disbelief at her teammate who seemed wholly unconcerned at her near death. But as she turned to ask just what the fuck happened, her foot slipped and she fell into an ungraceful heap, her back now vulnerable to the attacker and her front facing the looming vestige of her teammate; she attempted to push herself up only to have her hand slip again on the floor. In a haze of confusion, Hitomi tore her eyes away from Sakura and looked at the slick substance on her hand.

'Mud?' Hitomi's eyes flew to the varnished wood beneath her and her breath caught in her throat.

_Footprints?_

Again, her eyes flew toward Sakura's feet and she noticed the mud and rainwater that coated her sandals.

'But none of use should have left the hotel….' Hitomi's eyes narrowed in realization just as Sakura leapt toward her. She grabbed Sakura's outstretched hands, placed her foot in the middle of Sakura's chest, and rolled backwards, kicking Sakura off the veranda and into the pounding rain.

Hitomi finally leapt successfully to her feet, but hesitated to move forward and follow her assailant into the rain, or call out for Tenten. She couldn't be sure if the woman slowly rising out of her muddy landing place was even Sakura anymore, or if her teammate had just been stupid enough to get herself possessed by the enemy.

'_Fuck…!'_

* * *

On the second floor of their modest, little hotel, there was only one hallway – a long, dimly lit hallway running from back to front, slicing the top floor into two sections of guest bedrooms. The roof was made of cheap metal, and in some spots, rust was already appearing, signaling the imminent beginnings of hole. On one end of the ominous hallway, the creaky stairs lead down to the lobby and never failed to announce the imminent arrival of the unlucky guest traversing the old wood; on the other end, a small window attempted to allow entrance to whatever light brave enough to venture into the narrow hallway. 

But under the window sill, in the small triangle of shadow created by the intruding shafts of light, lay crouched Tenten, the hilt of her katana firmly in her grasp, and her body tensed for whatever should come through the window. As she was exiting her room, she had heard light footfalls on the roof – someone was attempting to blend the sound of their running steps in with the sound of rain falling on the tin roof. She had quickly re-entered her room, and waited until the intruder stopped.

The footfalls first paused near the window. But as Tenten had strained her hearing, she heard the sound of steps that fell offbeat with the rain, heading toward the front of the hotel.

She had exited her room and now lay in wait under the window sill, debating whether she should leap onto the roof or exit through the front of the hotel.

'Fuck. Why don't they have their radios?'

She decided to go to the lobby, hoping that the rain would at least muffle the squeaking call of the staircase. But when she finally found herself in the lobby, again crouched underneath a window that looked out onto the front of the hotel, she realized why no one was alerted to her presence.

The entire hotel was empty.

Her two teammates seemed to be facing off against each other, one covered in mud and pouring rain and the other panting on the veranda steps.

And at least six foreign presences were lying in wait in the surrounding forest – four in the front, one on each side of the hotel – all trying to suppress their charka.

'What the fuck is going on?'

Suddenly, she felt another presence stealing across the hotel roof, no longer trying to remain silent. Tenten stole a quick glance of her two teammates, and then dashed through the bottom floor and exited through the back door just as the intruder leapt off the roof.

"What is your purpose here?"

The intruder turned around, and in his arms she could see the unconscious form of Eagle Two.

_What the fuck…?_

"Hn. You Konoha kunochi are so predictable – unfocused, sloppy and over-confidant. You insult us if you think you could bring _two_ Hyuugas into Lightning Country and leave unscathed."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED. 

Well, that only took me… seven months?

I am so sorry for the delay – but school and finals were bearing down on me.

Anyways, **a great big thank you to all who reviewed, to all who put me in their favorite author/story list, and to those six who entered me into their C2**! You truly made my day and motivated me to finish this chapter.

Notes on this chapter:

_Was he, too, trapped in the cold glare of twin full moons? In the harsh and unrelenting traditions that dictated he walk away from his freedom…_ (1) Please note that I am talking about Neji here, and the legal rules of Konoha (that state that you must have a legal objection to a marriage) and the traditions of the Hyuuga Clan that combined to trap Neji in his (stupid) decision to marry Sakura.

_Tenten's hand resumed its methodical cleaning, and Tenten's voice was far more steady and empty than expected. _(2) Hands and voice do actions, no reference to Tenten. Emphasize that the motions and words are more automatic and almost disconnected from her mind.

**Please Read – a Note to all Flamers:**

So, I have gotten a few reviews that say that this story makes them think too much – that any story that must have guidelines and footnotes and "Please Read" notes at the beginning is just too complicated and badly written. WELL, if that is the case, then I'm sorry that I make you think too much – but good literature isn't going to just lay it all bare for you. And if you haven't noticed, some of my favorite books have been the most complicated literature ever written (see: Faulkner).

But I am trying to up the standards of this site – bad grammar, poor sentence structure, and just bad writing is not what you're going to find here. I admit that having Guidelines goes a bit far, but that was a onetime foray into that style of writing, and it most likely won't happen again for a long time. But emotional depth isn't going to be reached very easily, and I'd like to show you the emotional and psychological progression of each character as they make their realizations and decisions.

But for all of you who have enjoyed my writing so far, I thank **so much** for taking the time and effort to understand and grasp my work.

_And again, if you do review, please tell me what you think not only about the story, but also writing, plot, characterization, and tone; and if you have any suggestions, please don't hesitate to tell me! If you don't like it, please tell me what went wrong, just don't flame me._


	6. Chapter 6

UPDATE!!

I've returned from beyond the grave, to give you my longest chapter yet – EIGHT PAGES – following my longest hiatus yet (almost a year?) But I promise you this: I will finish this story. Unless I die an early death – eek! Knock on wood.

And for all of you that said that there has not been enough NejiTen action, I give you some.

**AN**: **Please read the ENTIRE CHAPTER**. If you are not satisfied about a few aspects, read until the end – you should be surprised at what happens.

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Naruto**_** or anything affiliated with **_**Naruto**_

Chapter 6

"_Everything looks perfect from far away." - The Postal Service._

The lyrical sound of wind whispering through the overhead leaves signaled the breaking of dawn, the morning birds' dialogue acting as a playful refrain to the mellow hum of the forest's awakening. The burning, early morning sun broke over the treetops and spilled into the glade; the reaching rays creeping slowly over and around the still figure positioned at the edge of the open field. The red glow beneath his eyelids gradually brightened into a blinding grapefruit orange as the searching shafts of sunlight broke through the overhead canopy of leaves and warmed his dew-dampened clothing.

He briefly considered opening his eyes, but instead allowed the music of the early morning to croon him deeper into his meditative state – not the bird song that chimed occasionally as the morning bird took flight into the burning horizon, but the individual voices of the trees, the blades of grass, and the blooming blossoms that all combined and harmonized to _sing_ the morning into being.

It was a tune that first hung in the still air, filling the enclosed field with notes – with whole notes, eighth notes, rests and long pauses; with flats and a few sharps, three-fourth counts, and a few minor chords. But as the melody progressed, the song built and swelled, filling the glade to its brim until finally, as song climaxed on a perfect E flat, it carried over the tops of the great magnolias and sailed on the winds, out of the forest and into the village.

The lyric-less chords of a song that remained happily unnamed. The lullaby of the natural world.

Harmonious.

_Harmony, a place he always wanted to visit._

But today, as he sat in this familiar glade and tried to listen to the lullaby, all he heard were the calculated steps that approached him – all he could hear was his lullaby being broken, as if novice fingers were playing all the wrong notes.

"Neji-sama. You are summoned to Hokage Tower."

Discordant and jarring notes.

"… It's concerning your wife's mission."

Like anvils falling on piano keys.

… Like bodies falling to the ground.

* * *

The lush looking carpet beneath her feet was slowly becoming saturated with her blood as the wind blew innocently through the large bay windows lining the back of Godaime's office. Her eyes were drawn to the quietly rustling paperwork on the corner of the desk. _Inbox_, the simple wooden basket read, its broad, flat stomach filled and over filled with backed up paperwork: overdue mission reports on trivial, routine missions, on S-ranked assassinations… on both failed and successful missions.

And now one more mission report was going to enter into the abyss sitting on Godaime's desk. One more pile of flimsy words and expressions would be dumped into the monster's mouth – an inadequate hodgepodge of letters and syllables that would never _could never_ fully recount what happened out there; one more booklet of meaningless paper would need to be written out in her overly neat handwriting. Her handwriting, with her characteristic 't' and her odd way of writing in the third person, in pretending she was writing a story, writing about people she had dreamed into existence.

Her handwriting.

Hers.

_The only one left._

How was she going to put into words that their three-man cell – a team that had been perfectly crafted, perfectly designed to be a success – had fallen easily into the enemy's trap? How could she describe the elaborate way in which they failed: through the endless use of 'thus' and 'consequently'? Should she describe how they went down like a brilliant solar flare – exquisite for a moment, but then fizzling and dieing in the next? Or should she simply forgo all inconsequential details and simply state the facts – those cold hard facts that were now filling the air around her and sucking the warmth from her very bones?

Would she say_, "Eagle Two was beguiled by the enemy, a jutsu that had a time/sound trigger. When the jutsu was triggered Eagle Two proceeded to attack Hawk Three. The fight brought both into the range of the enemy-nin waiting in the surrounding forest. They attempted to kidnap Hawk Three." _

Or would she regale her readers (Not Godaime, because then her characters were too real, and the situation too bleak) with the gruesome details? Would she instead say that she had let her emotions cloud her senses and disobeyed Tenten's direct order to stay in the inn, and not head out alone into the surrounding forest? Could she honestly justify that she hadn't heard the enemy coming, hadn't heard the way the branches shook or the leaves rustled until they were upon her and she had fallen right into the their trap?

"_Sakura! What is wrong with you?"_

And then could she tell them how fiercely Hitomi fought to keep her alive, how her comrade _her friend_ had tried to protect her even as she stabbed a kunai into her back?

"_Stay behind me. Back to back. Just like we practiced, right?"_

Or would words fail her? How could she explain that she just _didn't see her there_, that at that moment – that long, fateful moment when she couldn't distinguish between friend and enemy, when she couldn't discern between tree and teammate – when her hand drove through Tenten's stomach, she could not have understood what she had just done?

"_Sakura! MOVE!"_

_Blankets of punitive rain cascaded down upon the muddy clearing, the impact causing a haze of mist to surround the blurry, black bodies of each ninja; each movement, each feint, each thrown kunai was blurred about the edges causing her already murky vision to swim and undulate in every direction. Her image of the forest was distorted, like someone had thrown water onto her canvas, the watercolors all melting and mingling to create a medley of colors with no distinct shapes or lines. She wanted to help. She wanted to fight! She wanted to be a useful, fucking member of their team! But she as she swung her head left and then right, she couldn't be sure if that the black blur to her left was a tree or an enemy or a teammate. She couldn't be sure that if she threw the shuriken gripped tightly in her left hand that she would drive those five sharp points deep into the flesh of Hitomi or Tenten. _

_And she had to be sure – she had to be fucking sure. _

…_There!_

_There was an enemy! A person that had no mask, no characteristic ANBU armor, nothing that would distinguish a Konoha ninja from the enemy – and if she was wrong, then she would hit a tree with no harm done. She was sure. She was so positive that she would bet her life on it. _

How would she make her Shishou understand that the justifications that sounded so sure and so reasonable to her muddled mind at the time now seemed feeble and unsubstantiated as she looked back?

… '_Ugh. What the fuck Sakura? I'm on your fucking side!'_

How would she face those cold, gleaming eyes and reveal that the only reason Tenten was not standing beside her right now, the only reason Hitomi was most likely slowly dying in a pool in her own blood was because **she**, despite her training and her experience and her fucking common sense, had stared her teammates directly in the eye and deemed them the enemy?

… And killed them. Individually. Seemingly without remorse.

_Knock. _

"Come in Neji."

The room seemed to become colder, the air more oppressive, and her position in the center of the room more remote and isolated from everyone present. Slowly, as the indistinct images running relentlessly in her mind's eye came to their climactic repose, the painful movie drawing to a close, she came to the startling and heart-breaking conclusion that her team was dead.

"Hokage-sama."

Neji's deep and deceptively calm voice rang too loud and too clear in the overly bright office. "I was told there was a complication with my wife's mission."

Tsunade's eyes never left Sakura's paling face, her hard eyes almost challenging her apprentice to explain the two broken masks sitting on her desk.

"Indeed."

Sakura brought her eyes to finally meet the hard glare of her Shishiou; the bright sunlight exploded before her eyes, and a pair menacing amber orbs rose out of the blinding light, eyes that struck deep and cut out her heart, a merciless look that promised that she would be held entirely responsible for their deaths –

"Sakura, please give your report."

His wife's heavy silence and hunched shoulders was all he needed. "Hokage-sama. Where is the rest of her team?"

Tsunade again refused to meet his now anxious gaze. "_Sakura_. Give your report."

And the against her will, the words began to flow out her mouth, each one falling ominously in front of the other, forming a guilty and bloody path to the unpromising ending.

"The enemy, presumably sent by Lightning Country, drew off our Capitan into the surrounding forest.

She was surrounded and out numbered.

Upon the basis that I could not find her body, she was either killed or died from her wounds. As their original goal seemed to gain the Hyuuga bloodlimit, I reason that the odds that she was taken hostage are slim to none – I predict that she is dead."

…_There is no chance that she could have survived the gaping hole in her stomach. There's __**no way**__ she could be alive. _

"Eagle Two fought with Hawk Three. She was also outnumbered and could not adequately fend off the enemy. Because I also could not discover any of her remains, I assess that she was either captured or died from her wounds."

…_Wounds that I caused, that I inflicted. _

"Is that all, Sakura?"

Sakura continued to stare forward, her breaths coming quicker and quicker. The characters of her story were too real – the reality of her friend's deaths exploded before her unseeing eyes, and she couldn't breathe. Her chest constricted, and her pupils dilated. She could no longer deceive herself into believing that this whole disastrous mission was simply a dream, simply a nightmare that she could eventually wake up from. People had died, been killed, and even defected to enemy, but those could all be rationed and explained – all of their deaths and all of those decisions had some rationale and meaning behind them.

Her teammates deaths were senseless and the result of her carelessness.

Those deaths were her fault, the miserable and depressing result of her _mistake_.

_I killed Hitomi. I killed Tenten. _

_**I killed my team.**_

And to Neji, Sakura's final words dropped like bombshells from the night sky – unforeseen and earth shattering: "…There deaths are my fault. I killed Hawk Three. I killed Dragon One."

"…I killed my team."

* * *

When he finally drifted back to his room after leaving Hokage's office, the first thing that caught his eye was the tarot card that she had left on his sideboard.

About a week before his wedding, he returned home only to find her sitting pensively on the edge of his bed, waiting for him in the darkness. Confused and a bit uneasy, he paused in the entrance, his right foot caught hesitantly outside of the entrance. She briefly glanced at him, before dropping her gaze to the thin card she held lightly between her fingers.

"You are like him in a way," she began. "Full of infinite possibilities."

She turned the card over and set it carefully on the sideboard, revealing a motley character dressed in colorful clothes.

"Some say he represents the self-actualized person, free from societal constraints, someone who is able to let go of the outmoded beliefs and ideals with the courage to pursue their own path. (1) They say he lies at the very heart of Tarot – that all twenty-two cards are stages in his journey of self-discovery."

She paused.

"But as I've learned, you are _Reversed_," she continued. "By your own words you've admitted that you are burdened with a sense of obligation toward society and your daily duties. And in the long years that we spent as friends, as confidants, I wanted to believe that I could help in some way– you talked of freedom, of living your own life, of finally being liberated from your curse."

She turned to him, and held his gaze. "And _I wanted to help_, Neji. I wanted to show you that you could find companionship, find happiness… find love even when you still saw yourself as confined."

And then her eyes softened, and she wore a look that bespoke of pain and disappointment. "…But you are the _Reversed Fool_. And I turned out to be the one that was truly naïve."

She then slowly stood up, and gently allowed her fingertips to rest on the blond haired man that was painted onto the card, his gaudy clothing and overly bright colors making Neji resent his existence. And with her hand still resting there, she looked up at him and her gaze bore into his. He didn't know what to say, how to respond to her mysterious, psychological analysis of him. And when he didn't respond, she sighed and shook her head, the fight seeming to quickly leave her. Her shoulders slumped and she smoothly turned toward his window and hopped onto the sill.

The brief image of her resting easily on his windowsill, her head turned toward her shoulder as if she wanted to say something more – the image of her finally turning her back towards him – stayed with him for days afterward. It made him dwell in the same place long after she had disappeared with barely a disturbance to the air.

And every time he would pass her in the street, or catch a glimpse of her characteristic buns, he would think back on that night and try to understand what she was trying to tell him.

_The Reversed Fool._

Now as he sat silently on his bed, staring unseeingly at the card held loosely between his fingers, he again tried to understand when she meant.

How was he like this whimsical character that the artist dreamed into existence? How was he like this garish _fool_ who dressed in rags and stared absently at the glowing sun?

In a fit of frustration he flung card toward the adjacent wall. With a soft thud the card hit the wall and fluttered down toward the ground, landing silently on the hardwood floor and revealing a small scribble in Tenten's characteristic handwriting.

Neji quickly stooped to pick up the card once more, his eyes quickly and anxiously roving over the short message scrawled on the glossy back of the card.

_I hope you are striding confidently over your precipice. Do not take the little dog's warning lightly._

_... I wish you all the luck in marriage. Be happy. You deserve it. _

He read over the message twice, trying to imagine her face as she wrote these few short sentences, trying to recreate in his mind the image of her when she decided to come and wait in his room that night.

And what made his heart seize was not that he couldn't imagine her face, but that he could. In such startling clarity, he could paint exactly what expression she had worn, presume that she was probably sticking the tip of her tongue out the side her mouth – a habit when she wrote. The details that he could add to his mental image made it more and more real, to the point when he could almost say it was a memory, and not a fabrication of his mind.

But then his fantasy burst as he realized that Tenten was dead, that she had most likely taken that mission to get away from the cold reality that he had married her friend without confronting the unresolved feelings between them. And she had died still thinking that in the their years that they had grown closer, all the brief touches and casual affectionate glances had all been fabrications of her mind; she had died probably thinking that he would grow to value Sakura more than her.

_But Sakura…_

Sakura meant nothing compared to her.

She was his wife, and she would be the woman that warmed his bed at night and carried on his legacy. She was the kunochi that has been accepted by the clan to be his companion for the rest of his life.

_But Tenten…_

Tenten was his best friend.

And the moment that she became his first friend, his closest friend, she rose to a place in his heart that Sakura could never compete with. As the first woman who had cared for him and protected him, Tenten commanded a degree of loyalty and respect that would never be matched.

_And as the first woman to love him…_

_As the first woman that he __**loved**__…_

Neji closed his eyes and for the first time in his life, struggled to contain himself as he realized that his closest confidant, his best friend… his first love was dead.

And then the anger set in – a mind-numbing, bone-deep fury that made his charka flare up around him.

He would kill the man who killed her. He would destroy everything that man ever held dear to him.

He would eradicate every memory of his existence.

He would avenge her – _he swore it on his life._

And as he finished packing his weapons and supplies, there was only one thought that ran through his mind.

_She was my best friend. And for her death, someone will pay._

* * *

When the late-night guardsman looked down only to find the bleeding and barely breathing form of a kunochi, he honestly didn't know what to say beyond the frantic "Are you alright?" that escaped his mouth. Should he bring her to the hospital first and then notify the Hokage, or take her straight to the Hokage's office?

He shook his head – he need to calm down and think rationally. Of course he should get her medical attentions as soon as possible.

He tried to lift her body into his arms as gently as possible, when he caught her soft-spoken words. "Tell them that she's alive."

He didn't know who this 'she' was, but if this shinobi was willing to use her sparse breath to relay that message, then he would see her wish through. "I will Miss. Just hold on."

And as he unknowingly raced the broken body of Hitomi to the Hospital, he knew that he would demand an immediate audience with Hokage – someone was alive, and in their profession as ninja, they needed to be found immediately.

* * *

She was running.

_Running frantically, her leg tensing, her heel striking down harshly onto the soft earth, the chakra concentrated at the ball of her foot exploding outward and expelling her forward as her foot completed the stride. As she swung low in an effort to avoid the chakra wire threaded through thick wildlife, she dug her bare feet into the earth with unnecessary force – slipping would mean her capture, tumbling would mean her death. _

She needed to get to the tree line.

She needed to get home.

_A rustle to her left made her heart leap over a beat, the dissonant sound of wet cotton rubbing against itself ringing clearly through the hum of rain, the wail of the wind, and the harsh exhales of her diaphragm. _

Keep moving.

_A rustle to her right made her arms quiver and her blood pound: she wanted to look left, to look right, to see the __**who **__and __**how many**__ but her eyes were riveted to the approaching tree line, and she could see nothing else._

_Not the even the kunai that struck her in the shoulder._

The tree line. _The tree line._

It was her only way home.

It was almost here. _She was almost there. _

_And suddenly the hole in her stomach didn't seem as painful: the awful jolts of pain that tore at her mind, the alarming sound of tearing muscle and cloth all seemed bearable because she knew that she was going to make it to the trees, to the boundary between Lightning Country and Fire Country. _

She was going to make it.

She was –

Tenten didn't see the last trip wire, hidden cleverly in the overgrown grass. She didn't see smug smiles of the enemy-nin as they closed in on her.

_All she saw __**could see**__ was the tree line. _

She had been so close.

So close.

"_N-No…."_

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED.

Well, what can I say about the lateness of this chapter? Not much – I had been struggling with what I really wanted to accomplish in this chapter and where this story was going. To say the least, I've figured it out. But I needed to get a lot done in this chapter, to forgo prolonging the action: Neji's reactions, the announcement of their deaths, the announcement of their NOT being dead, etc.

Now I can move on to the action and more NejiTen romance!!

Notes of the chapter contents:

(1) www(dot)bellaonline(dot)com/articles/art24632(dot)asp This is where I got most of my information on The Fool Tarot card. I even took a sentence to two.

Also: **A BIG THANK YOU TO ALL THAT HAVE STAYED WITH THIS CHAPTER** and have written some really heart-moving reviews –it made me know that this story hasn't fallen into the archives of fanfiction. I hope that you keep with me, and don't give up. I promise to make my few and far between chapters worth your wait. And I hope that I've succeeded with this chapter.

_And again, if you do review, please tell me what you think not only about the story, but also writing, plot, characterization, and tone; and if you have any suggestions, please don't hesitate to tell me! If you don't like it, please tell me what went wrong, just don't flame me._


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